Devil With A Blue Dress On
by Rocky T
Summary: coda to season 6 "Ashes to Ashes"


_Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and all of its characters are the property of Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended._

_Story Notes: Title from the song of the same name by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. The story is just a piece of fluff, inspired by Janeway's blue outfit in "Ashes to Ashes" (and every reviewer who felt compelled to mention it.) Also answers a very important question: how the heck can you ruin a replicated meal?_   
**DEVIL WITH A BLUE DRESS ON** Chakotay entered the Captain's quarters, his mind on the Engineering report, his eyes fixed firmly on his padd. "Sorry to bother you, but I wasn't sure if this could wait till morning." His superior officer was nowhere to be seen. Undeterred, or perhaps simply unobservant, he went on, "The latest figures on fuel consumption aren't as good as we'd like. We're in no danger of running out of deuterium again, thank the Spirits---" 

"Amen to that," came the somewhat muffled reply from the bedroom. 

"But we're still going to have to discuss ways in which to improve our efficiency ratio. One possible solution is to limit our regular cruising speed to no more than---WOW!" 

Janeway grinned at her suddenly speechless first officer. "And which warp factor, might that be, Commander?" 

He stood gaping at her for a few more seconds, then with a visible effort closed his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but nothing came out. He wasn't helped at all when she glided closer to him and put her hand on his chest. Her voice was low, almost seductive, as she asked, "Do you have a problem, Chakotay?" 

"No, ma'am," he said, almost reverentially. "What I mean is---Gods, Kathryn, you look incredible. That outfit..." 

Her hand lingered another moment or two, and then, mercifully, she released him. She struck a pose, hand on her hip, and then slowly turned around. She laughed delightedly at his expression. "I take it my attire meets your approval?" 

"Oh, yes," he breathed. "It really brings out your...eyes." It was true, but he was really thinking how the dark blue fabric molded her figure in all the right places. 

She seemed to be enjoying his reaction. The corners of her mouth were quirked up and she had that devil-may-care look in her eyes. 

He couldn't stop looking at her, or more accurately, at her clothes. Velvet. The fabric was some kind of crushed velvet. He was dying to touch it and see if it really was as soft as it looked. Knowing her, though, she'd probably tell him it wasn't proper command protocol for the XO to run his hands all over the captain's body in the absence of a medical emergency. He took a few steps back, and forced himself to focus on a spot a few inches above her head. "Uh, are you going somewhere this evening, Captain?" 

"Surely you've noticed we're warping through space, nowhere near any planets right now, Commander." 

"Yes, I did, actually. I thought maybe you're on your way to the holodeck?" 

"No, just dinner with Ensign Ballard, as I mentioned earlier." 

"That's right, you did." His eyes inadvertently slid downward. Gods, the way she was standing, that tight bodice and plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination, and then stimulated a whole new set of imaginings. "Aren't you a little, er, overdressed for the occasion?" 

Her smile got bigger, as if she was reading his every thought. "No, I don't think so. It isn't everyday an ensign is invited to a private dinner with the captain. I wanted to give it a little sense of something extra, make her feel this is a special occasion." 

"You could wear your dress uniform," he suggested. 

"I'm sick to death of always being in uniform," she answered. "Besides, it's fun to get dressed up every now and then." 

"You never dress like this when _we_ have dinner together," he noted a bit petulantly. 

Her eyes never left his as she closed the distance between them once more. "When we have dinner, I'm not on display. I can just relax and be myself, and I dress accordingly." 

He was glad she felt so comfortable, but he still wished she would put on a display for him...She patted his arm and then turned toward the replicator unit, leaned over, and started punching in numbers. 

The view from the back was even more enticing. Commander Chakotay made a quick decision. He deposited the engineering report on the desk, strode over to the replicator, and took his life, and his captain, firmly in his hands. 

* * *

  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" 

"What do you think I'm doing?" 

"I know exactly _what_ you're doing---the question is why?" 

"Oh, come on, Kathryn. You know why." 

"Humor me." 

"Oh, I'd love to. Ouch! All right, I'm conducting an experiment." 

"Really? On just how many seconds it takes to demote a certain Commander and have his butt hauled off to the brig?" 

"No, on the texture of your dress. It looks so silky soft and touchable..." 

"Which you certainly seem to be doing plenty of---" 

"I wanted to know if the proper lie of the fabric goes _this_ way, or _that_. What do you think?" 

"Mmm. I mean, hmm, that's an interesting question." 

"So what's your answer?" 

"Um, I think we need to collect more data before we can reach a satisfactory conclusion." 

"I love it when you talk scientific." 

"Ooh. That feels good." 

"And this?" 

"Ooh. Do that again." 

"You know, Kathryn, this would be easier if you would step away from the replicator unit." 

"I can't. I told the Ensign dinner would be at 1900. I can't have her showing up without the food being ready. I just need, ah, to enter in a few more commands---oh. Oh, that feels wonderful!" 

*BE-OOP! WARNING. SURFACE TEMPERATURE HAS EXCEEDED OPTIMAL LEVELS. HANDLE WITH CAUTION.* 

"Uh, Kathryn, what exactly did you program the replicator for?" 

"Pot roast, with potatoes and carrots. Why?" 

"Don't take this as a criticism or anything, but should it look and smell like that?" 

"Like what? Oh, God! Look what you made me do!" 

"What_ I_ made you do? I told you to stop fiddling with the controls while we were busy!" 

"While you were busy, you mean! Thanks to you, the stupid replicator _liquefied_ my pot roast! How am I going to explain this? 

"I don't think blaming it on the replicator is very convincing." 

"Got any better ideas?" 

"I don't suppose you want to do it again? The replicator, Kathryn! I meant reprogramming the replicator!" 

"Oh. Sorry. Too late for that, she'll be here any minute." 

"I guess you'll just have to break out the peanut butter." 

"Yeah. Not quite what I had in mind for this evening, though." 

"Well, even if the food is a bit ordinary, I must say, the captain's appearance is still quite...extraordinary." 

"Oh, no, you don't. That's what started this whole mess! Goodbye, Chakotay." 

"OK, I'm going, I'm going. Hope you have a nice dinner." 

"Thanks. Oh, and Commander?" 

"Yes, Captain?" 

"Feel free to stop by later for some dessert."   
_FINIS_ _ Click _ here _for the sequel, "Playing God".___

Back to Rocky's Road 

e-mail the author   



End file.
